Reminiscing
by tbanderson
Summary: This was an idea that I had that developed quite nicely between Sev and my own character. Constructive criticism is welcome. Rating might go up. Some Language... okay a lot of language, you've been warned.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

_Where it All Began_

I sit on the couch, in our living room, with my husband's head in my lap as we watch the muggle nightly news. It's become a habit of ours over the years, even though suspicious activity from anyone in _our_ world was the last thing we expect. And the last thing we want; we've made ourselves a nice, quiet, though undeniably happy life with nice, quiet, unsuspecting neighbors, and I, for one, have had enough adventure and terror to last a lifetime… probably two. That's not to say that our life is dull, each day brings its own excitement… but I'm getting a little ahead of myself.

I run my fingers through my husband's thick, black hair and marvel at the time that has passed. Five years next month since we said our vows. Five years and two months since Voldemort fell. And nearly four since I gave birth to our beautiful, black-haired son, Taiven. With my spare hand, I caress my just-beginning-to-bulge stomach where our second baby is growing. I haven't picked a name yet, but with nearly five months to go, I have plenty of time.

As if sensing my train of thoughts, my husband looks up, catches my hand and places a kiss on my palm. "Love you," he murmurs before turning his attention back to the news.

I smile, nearly five years and he's just as romantic as the day we said, "I do."

I, too, slowly turn my attention back to the news, but the activities of the muggle Prime Minister and his family just don't hold my interest. Within moments my mind begins to wander to where it all began…

This is the story of how I seduced my future husband, fell in love, nearly got killed, and grew up along the way…

I suppose truthfully it all started on my first day at Hogwarts, or when I met George Weasley at Platform 9 ¾, or even when I found out that my godfather, Remy, Remus Lupin to everyone else, was a wizard and I was a witch, but for sake of time and explicit relativity to the story it all began at Hogwarts, close to the beginning of my seventh year in the one class that I loathed the most.

I was eighteen, the oldest one in the school, but I didn't look it and I sure as hell didn't feel it. All the guys that I had slept with (a grand total of two), as well as all the guys I had dated (more than I can or for that matter care to remember) had graduated, leaving me all alone and single for the first time since I was thirteen… it was a weird feeling. Just how does one go about being single? Especially when all the guys, professors excluded of course are at least two years my junior… it definitely put a damper on the dating scene.

I sat in my usual spot, with my usual partner, and as usual not paying much attention the lecture or the project we were supposed to be working on… Marianne could deal, she was a smart girl. I was thinking about… well, I wasn't really. Truth be told there wasn't a whole heck of a lot going on in my head at the time, just whatever chaos I was planning, with my usual co-conspirator, Klaus Webber… and my budding and incredibly disturbing, I might add, fascination with… well, one of the people that I had, for the past six years, loathed with the same intensity of that great, glowing orb in the sky… and _no_, I am not talking about the moon…. dumbass.

I watched him stalk around the classroom, scowling at everything and everyone. Every few seconds, he would bark out instructions that were nearly overshadowed by the insults that accompanied them.

It made me wonder what was really going on in the man's mind. As I speculated, a plan began to formulate in my twisted mind.

By the time he made it to mine and my partner's table, I was concluding the final touches to my plot.

"Five points from Gryffindor," he murmured, probably noticing that the entire sheet was written in Marianne's handwriting.

"Why?" Marianne was naïve enough to gasp; I had no doubt that every answer was correct.

"The reason I give assignments that require partners, besides having to grade less papers, is so both can participate. _Not_ so one can do all the work and the other can daydream. Even if your partner is as abysmal as Miss Stanford," he sneered. Ah, there it is, the tale-tell insult.

I rolled my eyes and then smiled sweetly up at his outraged face.

"Detention," he enunciated.

I just smiled; he couldn't have given me a better opportunity to put my plan into action.

I nearly chuckled as he walked away – I had brought men to their knees in a matter of days or weeks, depending on how hard the guy is to crack. I'd broken more hearts than he'd probably had lovers. I ripped out guys' hearts and had them for breakfast. And while I'd only had sex with two men, I considered myself experienced… plus, I was just naturally good at it.

All in all, it shouldn't take too long… _Severus Snape, _I mentally addressed him, _I give you two weeks. _


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_Explanations _

At this point, your thoughts probably vary between, "Why?" and "What the fuck?" and this is perfectly alright… not that I am going to answer you.

Okay, I will… sort of. Those of you who thought "What the fuck?" should probably stop reading… now; it only gets worse from here. As to those of you who thought "Why?" well, there is no clear-cut answer. I could say that it sprung from boredom; that I did it because he was there. I could even say that it was because he was the only male in the castle even remotely close to my age without being younger than me… the whole maturity issue. I was immature enough, I wasn't interested in a guy more immature than I was.

Both of these, however, are lies and if you are tempted to cling to one of them to explain my behavior (and keep some vestige of your sanity), I suggest you stop reading too…

Anybody still there? Ah, yes, you in the corner, not sure if you should stay or go. Well, we'll continue until you make up your mind.

No, the real reason I decided to seduce Severus Snape was dark and twisted and is possibly all the proof that someone would require to have me committed. The truth is, I was fascinated, and not a little drawn to him. That's not to say, however, that I found him particularly attractive. No, I saw what everyone else did and I was not blind.

I was drawn to his misanthropic tendencies – the way he seemed to hate _every_one more or less indiscriminately and the way he was feared and loathed in return. I was willing to bet at least some of it was a front. It also made me wonder what had happened – you don't just wake up one day and say, "God, I hate the world and everyone in it!" Something has to happen to make you feel that way.

In short, I wanted to know what made the man tick.

And I figured that once I had, and most likely slept with him, my fascination would come to an end and I could go back to hating him (and his little dog too) in peace.

… Why do things never go according to plan?


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I probably should have been doing it all along, but you guys know the drill. All characters (except mine) & stuff (besides the plot) belong to J.K. Rowling (including my beloved Dungeon Bat), and I'm sure as heck not making any money off of this!

Quick A/N: Thanks to Danbamina, VampireDragonGirl66, Selesteant, thecircularsky for putting "Reminiscing" on story alert... it's nice to know that somebody's reading/enjoying all my hard work. Also, a big thanks to Fonzfan and smverduzco for adding this to your favorites! And a sooper big thanks to Danbamina (again) for your reviews and words of encouragement! NOW: if the rest of you could just drop a line, tell me what you think that'd be GREAT! An author really does want to know what people think of their work. Even if you don't really like it, or think something needs to change, I'd really like to know. Thanks! Okay, that was a bit long, sorry.

Chapter 3

_Detention_

"Why am I here?" I demanded, walking into the office.

Snape sighed, but didn't look up. "We both know, unless you are lacking mental capacity, why you are here. I gave you detention for your grievous lack of respect towards your elders. I could have just taken off points, but that does not seem to faze you. So here you are and here you will stay until you've completed the task I set for you." At that he looked up at me to sneer but the unpleasant expression froze and then slid off his face as he gazed at me.

I resisted the urge to ask him just what he found so fascinating about me, as I smirked and smoothed my black satin dress down my hips, but there was no point in being a bitch. "Yes, but is that _really_ why I'm here? No other reason?" I whispered, crossing the room to him.

"Miss Stanford… this really… most improper…" he stuttered, but his eyes said something else entirely as he stared at me, lust plain in his expression. Suddenly I was glad in my choice of outfits. It was my latest creation; or rather my latest design and it had just come in from my designer. It was loose and flowy and looked a bit like a nightgown while still emphasizing my rather voluptuous shape… if I do say so myself.

He cleared his throat and shook his head faintly as if attempting to clear it. "Your attire… as interesting as it is, is entirely _impractical_ for your task. I have a spare pair of work robes in the supply closet. Please change. Then we will discuss your assignment."

I just stared at him for a second. He was kidding… right? I wasn't entirely sure, so I voiced my concerns. "You're joking."

He arched an eyebrow as if shocked that I had the gall to question his authority, even so, I noticed his eyes flick down my body before moving up to my eyes. "Not in the slightest," he murmured, his voice silky steel as always.

I had to resist the urge to glare at him as I stomped off to the closet in question and grabbed the hideous robes… only to drop them in disgust and horror. They were covered in stains of all colors and what looked suspiciously like bug guts. I used my toe to edge them out of the closet and over to his desk.

"_Surely_, these are not the robes you intend for me to put _on my body_."

He looked up at me, his expression vaguely annoyed followed by confusion at my robe-less state, then he glanced down and smirked. "Yes, they are. As you are not appropriately attired, I was kind enough to lend you a set of spare robes…"

"They're filthy," I cut him off.

"Beggars can't be choosers," he quoted sagely and I honestly wanted to haul back and slap him.

Instead, I smiled scathingly, picked up the repulsive excuse for clothing off the floor with my thumb and forefinger and dropped them onto his desk, smirking as he recoiled. "Oh, don't mind me, I'm just gonna clean these up. It won't bother you, will it?" I asked like I actually cared. "Didn't think so," I continued before he had a chance to speak. "Scourgify… There good as new," I told him happily as every stain and insect remnant disappeared. I then proceeded to remove my dress, yes, still standing in front of him.

"M-Miss Stanford! What do you think…" his obsidian eyes were wide with shock.

"Well, I can't very well get my dress dirty can I? I'm still not convinced those robes are entirely clean. Could you unzip me?" I spun around, lifting up my hair so he could reach the zipper on the back of the dress. But he just sat there gaping like a landed fish. After a second, I sighed dramatically. "Oh, fine! Be unhelpful, I'll just do it myself." I picked up the wand lying on the table top and tapped the back of my dress which immediately unzipped itself, smirking as his eyes followed the zipper. "I just love magic, don't you," I cooed as I slid my dress off, folded it, and exchanged it for the robes.

But again he didn't answer – in fact, I wasn't entirely sure he was capable; it looked as though he was having a hard time just breathing. I leaned down and studied him for a moment, unsure if maybe he needed mouth-to-mouth… hmm, that option sounded just a little too tempting. "Are you okay?"

He glared at me, but did not deign to give me a verbal response.

"Oh, yep you're fine! Now, what is my assignment, mon capitan? Will I be slicing something?... Or cleaning… something?" Ew, I thoroughly hoped not, cleaning and Lily were two things that should not be used in one sentence, maybe not even consecutive ones. Unless the cleaning part was negated that is, as in: Lily will _not_ be cleaning. Moving on… "Or… labeling something? Or… Okay, I give, what grueling, back-breaking, mind-numbing, torturous, laborious task am I going to have to withstand?" I resisted the urge to fall to my knees in fake agony, as it was my left hand came dangerously close to strangling me.

He seemed amused by my theatrics; not that he smiled, but I'm pretty sure I saw a flicker of amusement in those black, soulless, depthless eyes of his that just suck you in… like a black hole of damnation and DOOM. "You are going to be cleaning out the caldrons used during class the past two days." I wrinkled my nose. "Including Longbottom's." My eye twitched. "All by hand. No magic," he confirmed as I opened my mouth to speak. He seemed to enjoy my evident pain as he issued my task like some vindictive king in Greek Mythology setting his challenger an undertaking only a god could perform… either that or like the overgrown dungeon bat that he was. Either way, in that moment, he was plain _evil_.

But that was neither here nor there. I _would_ accomplish his task, possibly calling upon the spirits of Odysseus and Jason to help me; I _would_ get out of these stupid, ghastly robes before I keeled over of Bubonic Plague; I _would_ seduce him… one way or another. And then this whole little misadventure would be over and done with and I could go on with my life.

"_Bah_!" I sneered. "I'll do your stupid task! Even though you seem to think I can't, you just watch! You just sit there and _sneer_, but we'll see who's laughing in the end. I will be victorious and then I'm gonna come for _you_ and your little dog too." I promptly threw my head back and my evil laughter filled the room.

Well, he was no longer sneering, that's for sure; in fact, I seemed to have shocked him into silence again. He just sat there staring at me as if unsure if he needed to find a strait-jacket, and furthermore as if wondering which planet I had just fallen off of.

I cleared my throat. "Sorry, I guess you didn't catch my movie reference."

He slowly shook his head, as if afraid to make any sudden movements. I seriously considered jumping at him and shouting, "Boo!" just to see if I could scare him any more than I already had. But in the end I rejected the notion, after all what was the point of having him terrified of me?

"Right!" I said after a minute and spun around, headed for the nearest caldron, only to swerve at the last second; it was Longbottom's and I wasn't sure I had the fortitude as of yet to tackle that particular obstacle…

About an hour later, I had made my way through ten cauldrons with that many left to go, including the moron Longbottom's. My lower back was starting to ache, my forearms were sore, my neck was in knots, and my shins and knees were going to have bruises from all the times they had been banged against the hard metal of the caldrons, but I was pleased with my progress and my stick-to-it-iveness.

For most of the time I had been working, silence had pervaded. Every once in a while a comment would be made but for one reason or another, no conversation ensued.

Half-way through my eleventh cauldron, I decided it was time for a break. I straightened up, yanked off the hideous, yellow, elbow-length rubber gloves, and rubbed my forearms and then my neck. I glanced over at the desk to see Snape hunched over something in concentration, looking tense and rather annoyed.

I bit my bottom lip, watching him for a second, and cleared my throat softly enough that he could ignore me if he wanted; but, as I suspected it would, his head jerked up, eyes narrowing before softening slightly as I threw him an arch look. He rolled his eyes, looking down, but I would have sworn one side of his lips curled upward ever so slightly.

He went back to work and I watched him for a few moments before getting up and walking toward him.

His head jerked up again. "Are you finished, Miss Stanford?" he demanded, looking as nervous as I imagined he possibly could.

I smiled slightly, leaning against the desk beside him. "No. About half-way, actually. I'm taking a break and you look like you could use one as well." I pulled the quill out of his hand, twirling it between my thumb and forefinger.

He didn't respond, but a speculative gleam flashed in his eyes for just a second; then it was gone, but I knew what I had seen. I knew he was affected by me, and I just needed an opportunity to act on it.

"You know," I said casually, contemplating the quill. "I never have gotten the hang of using these damn things." I tossed it onto the desk.

"Language," he said, but I could tell he didn't really care. Then he quirked an eyebrow. "Is that why your essays are always such a chore to read?" He nearly smirked.

"Oh, _ouch_," I retorted sarcastically. "No, I write badly with the sole purpose of torturing you. I write perfectly when doing an assignment for say… McGonagall." His eyes narrowed ever so faintly, and I grinned. "I was actually referring to _legibility_."

He inclined his head. "Is that to torture me as well?"

I laughed and he raised his eyebrows. "_Every_thing I do is to torture you."

"Ah, it all makes sense now," he muttered dryly.

I snickered. "You should feel honored that I go to so much trouble."

He snorted. "Hmm… and here I thought it just came naturally."

"Oh, no. I'm actually rather a nice person… when it suits me."

"Thank you for that qualification. Otherwise I just might have had to call bullshit."

"Language, Professor!" I gasped with false astonishment.

He just smirked for a second before his expression became penetrating and he studied me with an intensity that was almost alarming. "Why are you not afraid of me?" he suddenly demanded in little more than a whisper, catching me totally off guard.

It took about a tenth of a second for me to bounce back. "Why should I be?" I tossed back. "You're not scary. A little intimidating perhaps, but not frightening. Besides, half the school is terrified of _me_."

He choked. "_You_?" he said dubiously, his eye running up and down my frame, as if he thought me too tiny to be scary to anyone. "Oh, but you seem so… winsome."

I grinned. "I can be, when it… suits my purpose. But you might be surprised at just how scary I can be," I breathed.

He shot me a look of near… appreciation and I realized it was about as much of an opportunity as I would get.

"You know, we're very similar, you and I," I murmured, touching his hand which he jerked away a second too late. I marveled momentarily at how surprisingly warm his skin was.

"Oh? And how do you reckon that one?" he muttered, his voice sounding vaguely husky.

I smiled faintly, moving toward him ever so slowly. "Oh, just this feeling I have," I whispered. By then we were about six inches apart and he looked undecided as to what he should do – run away or take a leap and not make me do all the work… meaning that he should sit up ever so slightly and kiss me rather than having me not only instigate but carry out our first kiss.

Instead, he just sat there, like the obtuse, unromantic, British male he was, until our lips touched. I was just marveling at how soft and warm his lips were when he stiffened and he made a move to pull away. "Miss Stan-…"

"Don't," I breathed, curling the fingers of one hand around his neck; the other I pressed against his cheek, letting it slide down and curl into his collar.

He made a strange, half-strangled, half- groan and his fingers gently touched my face. I couldn't help but smile at my eminent victory and was about to deepen the kiss when the classroom door slammed. Severus jerked away, his eyes wide with panic.

"Go. Now. You no longer have detention," he hissed and I pulled back, resigned.

"You sure?" I teased after a second. "Doesn't look like anyone's coming in."

"Miss Stanford…" he protested, eyes on the empty doorway, as I traced his jaw, before moving away from my hand.

"Alright, alright, I'm going. Shall I come back tomorrow and ah, finish up?"

"N-no! No, you no longer have detention."

I scoffed. "Until the next time I do something to piss you off, that is," I muttered. "Face it Severus, you and I are going to be seeing a lot of each other this year," I called over my shoulder as I flounced out of the room.

A/N: Alrighty then, I hope you like this version better. I sure do! Anywho, thanks for reading guys. Any comments? Suggestions? Plot ideas? Leave a review and I'll see what I can do. Well, even if you don't, leave a review anyway and tell me what you think. Please? I'll love you forever.

To VampireDragonGirl66 and Danbamina: Better?


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: You guys know the drill, all characters (except mine) & stuff (besides the plot) belong to J.K. Rowling, and I'm sure as heck not making any money off of this!

Quick A/N: (and I actually mean quick this time) Thanks to Danbamina for your input! Thanks also to smverdunzco for adding this story to your favorites! To thecircularsky, yes, I plan on writing more, no worries. See, that didn't take too long, did it?

Chapter 4

_Plan B_

I wasn't really fazed by the… rejection, because I didn't really see it that way. It was just bad timing on… whoever -had -interrupted -us's part… whatever. Anyway, the point was that it was someone else's fault not mine. If he had said 'no' that would have been one thing, but I was convinced that I would have already gotten my way if it hadn't been for that damn interruption. Severus was into me and I was confident that I _would_ get my way in the end. But how to instrument alone time? That was the problem, and other than giving myself detention, I was temporarily out of ideas…

It was Thursday before I had his class again.

All through his lecture he seemed nervous and kept glancing my way only to catch himself just before he looked at me and turn the other direction.

I smiled evilly as I raised my hand to speak, neither knowing, nor caring what the lesson was about.

He ignored me.

"Professor?" I asked innocently.

His jaw locked and he spat, "Read pages 15-65, I want an essay on Tuesday," and turned and practically ran for his office, barking "Class Dismissed," as he did so.

I smiled, having proved my prowess, but all my fellow students were horrified at the assignment. I sighed, poor things, it wasn't even their fault. So I took it upon myself to straighten it out… well, sort of.

In the stampede to be the first one out of the door, in case Snape changed his mind, no one noticed little old me headed in the opposite direction: into the lair of the Overgrown Bat himself.

The moment I walked in, his back stiffened and he stopped moving, but he didn't turn to look at me.

"Professor?" I asked quietly. He grunted and I took that as his response, so I continued. "Don't you think that assignment a little unfair?" I crossed the room and by the time he turned, I was right behind him; he jumped and turned to glare at me.

"No, I don't." He crossed his arms over his chest, attempting to make himself look completely untouchable. "And since when are _you _the spokesperson for fairness?" he demanded, sneering, but somehow it didn't look as fierce as usual.

This time I couldn't suppress the smile. I tilted my head, considering. "Only since you're the one being unfair," I murmured, practically cooing. I slid my finger up his chest and he caught my wrist in a bruising grip.

"I don't know what you think you are doing, _Miss_ Stanford, but I suggest you stop," he hissed, his lip curling.

I looked up at him through my eyelashes. "Oh, don't you?" I whispered. "I think you do, Severus." As one of my hands was currently in a death grip, I used the other to slither up his chest and into his hair; I stood up on my tip-toes and had his face mere inches from mine and then the next thing I knew I was sitting in his desk chair, quite puzzled as to how I got there. I glanced up at him to find him watching me warily as if I were some dangerous animal that might strike at any given moment.

We both sat there regarding each other for some time.

Finally he sighed and I inclined my head, showing my willingness to listen and furthermore forgive him and overlook his… screw up, when he asked. "Yes?"

"Miss Stanford…" he paused and I frowned, he had only said two words and I wasn't sure I liked where this conversation was going.

"Severus?"

He cleared his throat. "_Miss Stanford_," he said firmly. "As much as I… appreciate and am flattered by your… interest , I regret that I must inform you that it is not returned, and I would very much appreciate it if you would… leave off."

My eyes snapped up; this was definitely not what I anticipated. "Excuse me?"

"I… don't… like…you… in… that...way," he said slowly as if he thought me lacking in mental capacity.

"You don't _LIKE_ me?" I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring daggers at him. _Did he really just..?_

"No. For one thing, I am your professor and what you are trying to do is considered, in many countries, to be illegal, and for another, you are, to put it kindly, a little on the… coarse side. That, I am sorry to say, just doesn't do it for me. So sorry to dash your… ah, hopes." He cleared his throat and stood up. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have a… meeting," he muttered vaguely and fled from the room.

I leaned back into the chair in shock and rage. He rejected me? He actually _rejected_ me! That was a first. Ever. I wasn't the rejectee, I was the _rejector_! That sort of thing just didn't happen to me! Just who did Severus Snape think he was?

I had always made fun of those girls who pathetically threw themselves at guys, only to be turned away, while said guy ran away in fear. Okay, maybe I had never heard anything quite like that happening, which is, I guess why it made it even worse for me. Did that make me even more pathetic than the rest? Was I _that_ desperate? Hell, no!

But what if it wasn't really _me _he had a problem with; what if it was him? What if he was scared? Inexperienced?... Gay? … Nah.

What_ever_ his issue was, I vowed that I would be the one to rid him of it; Severus Snape would be mine. I would just have to… modify my battle plan slightly. I could do that; I was amenable.

A/N: Yay, another chapter down. Success! Even if it is a bit short, sorry bout that guys. Now, it's your turn, leave a review and tell me what you think. Thanks!


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